


Take the Pleasure

by blakefancier



Series: For Your Entertainment [6]
Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-29
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard and Steve take baby steps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take the Pleasure

“He drives me mad,” Peggy says right before she drains her glass. She sets it on the table with a thump and gestures to Howard for a refill.

“Who does?” He moves slowly and with deliberate care; he doesn’t want to spill a drop.

“Our Captain, who else?” She snorts, takes the bottle from him, and pours herself. She gets most of it in the glass. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you.” Howard 's words slur together, but he doesn’t care. Peggy doesn’t care, Phillips doesn’t care, no one cares but Steve and he’s gone. “Gone off to war.”

“What?” Peggy peers at him intensely and frowns.

“My Captain has gone off to war.” He takes a sip of his drink.

“I hate to tell you this, Howard, but so have we.” She tilts her head. “He’s *your* captain now, is he?”

“No,” he says, the words coming to him easily. “No, he’s everybody’s captain. But he... He draws me. He… every night he comes in here and I sit for him.” He closes his eyes and presses his glass to his forehead.

“That’s not a euphemism, is it?”

Howard’s face burns with embarrassment. “Don’t be vulgar. He would never—He’s a good man.”

“The best. That’s why he drives me mad.” She sighs. “If only he were a submissive.”

His eyes fly open. “You’re a… a…”

“Domme? Yes of course. Don’t pretend you didn’t know, Howard.“ She gives him a look that makes him drop his gaze to the table.

“I never thought about it.” He swallows hard against the lump in his throat. “Why haven’t you…” He lets the words die on his tongue—he’s not even sure what he wants to ask.

“Why haven’t I made a fool of myself like Falsworth?” Peggy laughs, places two fingers under his chin, and tilts his head up to look at her. “I prefer subtlety. And I’d rather play with someone who enjoys the games. You wouldn’t enjoy my seduction, would you, Howard?”

He pulls away from her, his heart pounding in his chest. “No,” he says hoarsely. “You’re beautiful and intelligent, but… I…”

“You’re like me, Howard. You’re looking for perfection.” She sighs and pours them both more whiskey. “Your Captain drives me mad, Howard.”

Yeah, he thought, Steve does that to a lot of people.

*****

It's a little over a month before Steve and the Commandos find their way back to London. Howard doesn't go greet them like the rest of the base. He has work to do, Important work. Never mind that most of the scientists have gone off as well.

When the door to the lab opens, Howard straightens and tenses, setting down the screwdriver in his hand and flexing his fingers.

"Tell me you haven't spent all your time here, Howard," Steve says, sounding cheerful, but tired.

"No, not *all* my time. Every few days Peggy would drag me out to the pub." He takes a fortifying breath and turns. Still, Howard's knees go a little weak at the sight of Steve in his uniform, grimy and disheveled, looking, and smelling, as if he hadn't had a shower in weeks. As disgusting as it sounds, Howard wants to press his face against Steve's neck and breathe in deeply. Maybe even stroke Steve's filthy, sweat-stiffened hair. He wants Steve's scent all over him.

Steve gives him a lopsided grin. "Yeah, I know, I'm a mess. Hopefully, Phillips will let me have a shower and some food before he wants a report."

Howard nods, fighting the urge to step close.

"Anyway, I don't think I'll have much time for sketching the next couple of days, but I ought to be free by Thursday." He scratches his head. "Today is Monday, right?"

"Yeah," he says faintly. "Monday."

"We could have dinner first."

"S-Sure." He licks his lips. "I'll take care of it."

"Great." Steve beams at him. "I'll see you on Thursday at six."

*****

"Where in the heck did you find steak?" Steve asks, sinking into a chair, staring at their dinner in wonder. "Who'd you find to cook it? It looks…"

"Like meat and not graying shoe leather?" Howard rocks on the balls of his feet and grins. "Money has its privileges."

Steve looks up at him, serious. "This must have really cost you."

He shrugs and sits. "It's nice to have a good meal every once in awhile. And you deserve it, Cap."

"Oh, don't you start calling me that, too," Steve says, rolling his eyes.

"What? You don't like the moniker?"

"I like it fine. I just wish people would use my name every once in awhile." Steve picks up his knife and fork.

"Steven, yes, it is a good name. A very dependable name. Trustworthy."

“Why, Mr. Stark, are you teasing me?”

“Never,” he says, looking at Steve through lowered lashes.

Steve laughs, suddenly, and gently nudges Howard’s calf with his foot. “Eat, before it gets too cold. We have a long night ahead of us.”

Something hot squirms in Howard’s belly at those words, but he picks up his utensils and does his best to concentrate on the food in front of him. This isn’t as easy as he expects, not with Steve moaning and humming with each bite. He fidgets and shoves a piece of meat into his mouth, his face going warm at a rather exuberant noise from Steve.

“So, um...” Steve wipes his mouth. “The guys really love the weapons you made for them. You should probably expect some requests.”

He smiles, unaccountably pleased by that. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“No, you’re here for me.”

Oh! Those words slam through Howard like a shockwave of lust: he squeezes his eyes closed and lets out a sharp gasp of pleasure as his body responds in a rather visceral way.

No. No, no, dammit, no! He forces his eyes open and tries to get his sudden panting under control.

“Are you all right, Howard?” Steve’s voice is full of concern and he gently lays his hand on Howard’s forearm. And it takes every bit of strength, every bit of self-control not to come in his pants like a teenager.

"Leg cramp," he says. "It'll pass."

Steve doesn’t look convinced, but he leaves Howard to deal with it without another comment. Actually, Steve doesn't say anything else the rest of the meal, which is fine by Howard. He feels raw and on edge; maybe he should tell Steve he's tired and ask him to leave.

No, that idea doesn't appeal to him at all.

When their plates have been practically wiped clean, Steve looks up at him with a smile. "We should get started."

Howard nods and slowly gets to his feet. He looks at Steve expectantly.

"Go on." Steve crosses his arms over his chest, leans back, and waits patiently.

Howard's hands shake as he removes his jacket, laying it on the back of his chair carefully, then loosens his tie, slipping it over his head and setting it on the jacket. He hesitates slightly, when he gets to his suspenders, his chest tightening so quickly that for a moment, he can't breathe.

"Howard? Howard, look at me." When he does, Steve smiles and says softly, "You've done this before. You can do it now."

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and pushes his suspenders down. And he can't. He can't continue because his hands are shaking too hard; Steve's gaze is intense and his body is responding and… "Please."

"Please, what?" Steve tilts his head.

"Steve," he chokes out and shakes his head, because he *can't*.

Steve's expression softens and he stands. He walks over, untucks Howard's shirt and unbuttons it completely.

The cool air of the room hardens Howard's nipples. Other parts of him harden too and he gasps. "I'm not," he says, wanting Steve to understand. "I'm not like that."

"Not like what?" Steve takes off Howard's cufflinks and sets them on the table.

"I'm not an invert!" He can't catch his breath, he can't think, he can't do anything but stand here and let… "I’m not a fairy!"

"Okay." Steve is utterly calm as he slides the shirt off of Howard and tosses it on the table.

"I'm not!" he practically shouts. "I’m not! Steve—"

"I know, Howard. You're not an invert. You're not a fairy. I believe you." Steve trails a few fingers along Howard's stomach, pulling a tortured moan from him.

"You can't do this. You have to stop." A sob tears from his throat and he closes his eyes.

Steve stops and asks, "Why?"

"People will think I am. They'll know that I… that I… responded." They'll know that he was aroused by Steve's touch. They'll see it on his face and it'll get back to his dad.

"Howard," Steve says, gently. "Of course you're responding. You're touch starved."

"I-I'm what?" He opens his eyes and Steve is so close, all he has to do is lean in.

"Touch starved. People need to be touched, we like to be touched: a hug, a handshake, a pat on the back. But you don't let people touch you, Howard. You shy away, not because you don't like it, but because… Well, I don't know why." Steve lays his hands on Howard's shoulders and smiles earnestly. "Now when I touch you, your body gets confused. It overreacts."

Howard grabs on to that explanation with both hands. "Yeah?"

Steve nods and gently pulls Howard against him. "Yeah."

He shouldn't. God, he shouldn't. He lays his head on Steve's shoulder and shivers when Steve gently rubs his back. It did feel good to be touched; it feels good to let Steve touch him. Maybe this is all right. As long as it didn't cross the line, why wouldn't it be all right? Men are allowed to hug.

"You won't tell?" He presses his face against Steve's neck and breathes; his body is thrumming with arousal, but he's denied himself for so long, he knows he can do it now.

"Not a soul," Steve promises, stroking the nape of Howard's neck.


End file.
